


The Real First Time

by avidbeader



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-21
Updated: 2007-07-21
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:38:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidbeader/pseuds/avidbeader
Summary: Hermione has a breakthrough.





	The Real First Time

  
Author's notes: Thank you to my betas, LJ users mjryan and marie_j_granger for their excellent help!  


* * *

After he came out of the bathroom, rinsed and clean, he climbed into bed without a word. She looked at the ceiling, feeling every shift of the mattress as he pulled the covers up and rolled onto his side, away from her. She waited and listened, until the steady rhythm of his breathing told her he’d finally fallen asleep.

 

At that point, Hermione slipped out of the bed. She pulled his robe around her nude body and crept out to curl up in one of the squashy chairs by the magical fire. She was amused (as she always was) at how much Harry’s sitting room resembled the Gryffindor common room, but the pleasure was fleeting, replaced by bitterness.

 

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

 

Well, it was. Voldemort was dead and Harry was alive. They had eventually gotten past Ron’s death in the final battle and admitted how they felt about each other—or in Harry’s case, “recognized” might be a better word. They’d considered themselves a couple for over six months now. They’d started sleeping together three weeks ago.

 

Hermione hadn’t expected their first time to be all fireworks and sizzle. She’d read enough to know that a girl’s first sexual experience could be painful and that it might take “a few tries” before she experienced an orgasm.

 

But they were closing in on a dozen, and still Hermione hadn’t gotten beyond some tingly and twitchy sensations. Harry was at least achieving pleasurable ejaculations, but Hermione was fairly certain he wasn’t truly enjoying himself either. The conversations they’d had about their first heavy snogging sessions had been long and detailed, in contrast to his turning away and falling asleep tonight.

 

Was it too soon? Should they have waited longer before moving to intercourse? Or was it too late? So many of their snog sessions had been ecstasy; Hermione had been positive that actual sex would quickly be even more mind-blowing. They’d enjoyed that mental connection so much, knowing what to do and how to move with just a glance at the other’s face.

 

Instead, something was missing. And neither of them seemed able to voice the fact.

 

Hermione heard a sudden thrashing and a strangled moan from Harry’s bedroom and jumped up, rushing to the doorway.

 

He was having a nightmare. This was only the second time she’d spent the entire night at Harry’s flat, but she remembered Ron’s descriptions from sharing a dormitory with Harry for six years. Even now, with Voldemort gone, Harry still had bad dreams on a regular basis: usually the last victims rising up to blame Harry for not acting quickly enough in his search for the Horcruxes. Hagrid. Ron and Neville. A third of the original DA, including Cho Chang. The last of the Boneses. And all those strangers, wizarding families Harry never knew and anonymous Muggles whose fates might never be known.

 

Hermione climbed back into the bed and pulled Harry close. This Harry she could deal with. This was a familiar role: the comforter, the caregiver, the mother hen. She stroked his hair and face, murmuring reassurances until he calmed down. As he relaxed into normal sleep, he mumbled, “Love you, H’mione…”

 

She studied his face. Harry had never lost the waiflike quality that the Dursleys had etched into him. With his eyes closed and glasses absent, she could see the graceful curve of his nose, the sweep of his jawline, the lips that showed their fullness only when he relaxed and stopped pinching them shut.

 

Very slowly, Hermione reached out and traced Harry’s bottom lip. It was soft, even softer than when they kissed. She let her fingertips glide over his mouth in feather-light touches, exploring the outline where the upper lip dipped in the centre, and noticing for the first time the tiny X-shaped scar at one corner, possibly from shaving. She was unaware of it, but she was breathing faster.

 

What she did notice was Harry stirring, shifting his body and groaning a little. But instead of a cry of fear or pain from dreams, it was one of bliss. His breath shuddered through him and when she drew back a little, he tried to follow her and keep the contact.

 

She let her fingers drift down his neck, fluttering along his jaw and down to his throat. His pulse was rapid and strong, and by the brief flicker of his eyes, she thought he was awake. She went lower, stroking along his bare chest, and jumped, startled, when she brushed his nipple and he jerked under her with a cry that was almost savage.

 

In a state of wonder, Hermione traced the circle of the aureole then went across it. In a heartbeat the soft skin had hardened and drawn up. Harry groaned even more loudly as she bent and ran her tongue around the other nipple, feeling it harden as well. She glanced as his face and paused, seeing his eyes open and looking at her.

 

“Please…don’t stop…that feels fantastic…”

 

She had done this. She had the power to do this to him. Her groin tingled in anticipation.

 

With a feline smile, she licked delicately at his nipple again. Harry shivered. She kept going, sucking gently at first and then harder, until she nipped him very carefully. He cried out, “God, Hermione!”

 

She had been caressing his stomach and chest with the other hand and now reached up to the other nipple, strategically laying her elbow across his twitching erection. He was groaning constantly now, bucking his hips up against her. Hermione’s excitement surged and she was throbbing, astonished by what she had done to Harry.

 

Emboldened, she left a trail of kisses down his ribs to his navel. She hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath and very gently trailed her tongue down...

 

And was surprised to find herself on her back, where Harry had flipped her. He pinned her wrists down and kissed her savagely. Hermione tried to respond, but a part of her mind was trying to analyze the shift in mood.

 

Harry drew back briefly, freezing her in place with an almost feral expression.

 

“Stop _thinking_ ,” he growled at her.

 

He held her down and cut off any protest she might have voiced with another kiss, thrusting his tongue past her lips, demanding that she answer in kind. He moved her hands over her head, securing both wrists with one hand and plunged the other into her hair. He pulled her head back and left a searing trail of kisses down her throat. And when he moved down to massage one breast while his tongue caressed the other nipple, Hermione finally felt her last coherent thoughts dissolving.

 

She yanked her hands free and pushed him straight back. Harry was surprised as he rolled back, but began to grin as she straddled him and fought to get his robe off. It didn’t help when he sat up and seized her face with both hands to kiss her yet again. She finally pulled the robe over her head and flung it away. Harry was grinning at her struggle, but she fixed him with a stern look.

 

“I wasn’t finished with you yet.”

 

She pushed him onto his back, and slid down to sit on his legs. She let her hands trail from his shoulders, across his chest, and down. She bent and ran her tongue up the shaft of his erection, then blew a stream of air along the same trail. Harry cried out as she continued to alternate between tongue and air. Just when he thought he could take no more, Hermione took him completely into her mouth.

 

The heat alone almost drove him mad, and when her lips closed, sucking and licking, it seemed that the rest of his senses left him. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear; all he could feel was the sizzling movement of her tongue as she worked him. When she straightened, he could barely gasp in protest.

 

But she wasn’t done. Hermione climbed back up his body and positioned herself perfectly before sinking down on him in one smooth motion. She was so wet that the joining felt decadent, like the perfect spoonful of a rich dessert. She put her hands on Harry’s shoulders and began riding him. She pushed back a little more to keep her balance when he bucked, and gasped as she found an angle they hadn’t tried before but was utter bliss.

 

Now Harry was doing the majority of the moving, his hands on her waist and keeping her in touch with the sensation of nerves tightening and preparing to burst. He kept going until her groin was a mass of tension screaming for release and she gasped out, “Harry, please… _please_ …”

 

He pumped even faster, and suddenly the tension blew apart and she moaned as her orgasm crested, her muscles clenching and quivering uncontrollably. Harry held her up and a few seconds later gave a guttural cry as he peaked after her. When his hands dropped from her, Hermione collapsed onto him, trying to catch her breath.

 

He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. She returned the kiss enthusiastically, then drew back and looked at him with an expression of smug satisfaction.

 

“This,” she announced, “was my real first time.”

 

Harry looked blank for a moment, then slightly shamed. Hermione lifted his chin to make him look at her, and he read her amusement, triumph and forgiveness all in one glance. Then a slow smile crept across his face.

 

“Care to make it two?”


End file.
